To Know
by FreezePride
Summary: <html><head></head>Characters: Lexaeus, Zexion, Vexen (with Xaldin, Xemnas and Saix for the first chapter). Darkness can change a man until all that is left is what truly matters. At the core of things, it boils down to what you don't want to know, what you want to know, and what you already know after all. (Multiple chapters, implications of LexVex and LexZex)</html>
1. What You Don't Want To Know

What You Don't Want to Know

The scent was unquestionably blood.

It hung in the air like an unwanted fog, clouding the senses with a metallic tang that Xemnas did not seem to notice. The red of the setting sun dyed shadows of the castle greeting hall in crass shades of crimson, a subtle insult to the beauty of the stone fixtures of the nigh ancient surroundings. The crisp footsteps of his slow, lazy pacing echoed, seemingly meaningless and yet all those present knew much better. None were fool enough to assume that this conversation had no point, particularly after such a painstakingly won altercation. Xemnas' golden eyes all but glowed, surrounded as it was by the vibrance of the sun, bathing his unreadable expression as something far more threatening than his usual deadpan.

Xaldin could not even begin to try to assess why the Superior's eyes were locked on to Lexaeus with a viscousness he could not pinpoint. There had been nothing to warrant it, nothing logical to justify, and no swaying emotions of the heart to excuse it. Before words were even uttered, the Lancer knew something was horribly awry. Even Saix seemed confused by the way he looked to his leader and then to the giant man in question.

They had been brought in immediately for questioning after they had dragged themselves out of the portal to Never Was from RTC. Nothing about it seemed normal as an exceedingly grim looking Saix had ushered them into a second portal of darkness, directly into the castle where they currently found themselves barely standing. Both needed medical attention, or rather, perhaps it was just the lancer at this point for Lexaeus seemed to stare evenly, if not a bit challengingly back at the leader.

"You survived." It sounded like an accusation to him. Perhaps he had imagined it, but there was a slight note of disbelief as those narrowed gold eyes stared up at him, searching his underling with a deft precision. The goliath did not even blink, despite the blood oozing down his harsh features. He did not seem to notice, and apparently cared even less. Somehow, Xaldin found that he could believe the Superior's incredulous reaction. He was surprised that they were even still alive, given the power of their opponents, and the insane expectations of the mission itself.

If it had not been for the Silent Hero's resilience and skill in combat, they would have both been torn asunder, with naught left but the memory of their intent, and the organization which they had so staunchly fought for. It stood true that both men had their hard won strengths in battle, and that even during the training of their youth, Aeleus could never muster up the crafty cunning nature which Dilan so easily boasted in overpowering his opponents, but not once could someone match his brute strength and ultimate willingness to memorize his opponent's weakness. This had always served to amaze Dilan. Now that they had lost their hearts to the darkness, everything had adjusted, shifted and so horribly changed.

Xaldin had never seen his former friend mercilessly bludgeon a man to death before this. He never wanted to see it again.

Lexaeus inclined his head in the slightest tilt of acknowledgement at their superior. His eyes were glazed with the adrenaline which was roaring through his system, blinding him to the pain, to the wounds, to the knowledge of who's blood was plastered all over his hands and dripping from his leather robes. The adrenaline unfortunately did not prevent the images from Xaldin's memory from assaulting him once again, he grimaced, shaking his braided head slowly. There was no trying to forget now, after all.

"What loyalty do you hold to me?" The question seemed a bit redundant, in retrospect, seeing as how they were both standing before him, nearly bathed in the blood of their enemies. Xaldin had no reason for dissent, given the power that he had been allotted by the darkness which had devoured their core, which is why the answer seemed to surprise him all the more when Lexaeus actually chose to spoke.

"None." The answer was immediate, as though it were a knee jerk reaction to something repulsive. Lexaeus, if possible, looked angrier, through his stoic silence. There was hatred in the way his hand slowly clenched, the uncomfortable squelch of blood between gloved fingertips.

"His life is on the line. You know the consequences." The pacing continued, as though it were a casual afterthought. Xemnas seemed unperturbed by the giant, and yet his eyes never left him. Overly careful, Xaldin noted. Apparently, Saix was doing the same, for he seemed to tense up least there be an attack. None of it was making sense.

"Your will was done. The mission was a success." Clipped, low, angry. Lexaeus' voice was barely contained in a soft rumble. It was almost as though the prospect of speaking to Xemnas disgusted him to the point of choosing silence in it's stead.

"Then they are dead?"

"All of them." The bodies flashed in Xaldin's memory. He had not known that he would have it within him to accomplish it. Yet they did; the both of them did…particularly Lexaeus.

"If you are to fail, or rebel, I will destroy him." Something about the Superior's tone was a reminder, the other half was an even threat. He was unblinking, those steady gold hue piercing through vulgar crimson like a spear.

"I understand." Again, an immediate answer without feeling, aside from the bitter loathing in his royal blue eyes and the creak of a clenched fist and the bloodied leather glove which it wore.

"I could destroy you." Oddly enough, this was not a threat. Xemnas was more filled with a lazy curiosity. "He cares so little for your devotion."

"It matters little. You have never encountered true loyalty. I don't suppose you ever will." It was the longest statement he had uttered since they entered, and it seemed to be the decided end to his contributions in their unconventional debriefing. Arguably, the Superior seemed to be rapidly losing interest with the proceedings nonetheless. He turned from the bloodied men as one might flick away a particularly dull insect. Lexaeus did not flinch, he did not move.

"Would you kill me if you could?" Xemnas' deep voice rang out in the hall, pensive if not a touch regretful. The question had not been expected, but as with all of the other answers from the goliath had provided, it was without hesitation.

"I would crush you." Barely contained rage was a tint in the air, more potent than blood, more threatening than the vivid red, more concrete than the entire enigma of the proceedings. Xaldin was certain that he would see his former friend die tonight, or perhaps even his Superior.

But, to his surprise, Xemnas waved them both away with an uncaring hand, his glance cast unreadably at the soaring stained glass window before them. Xaldin could not believe his eyes. Apparently, Saix shared his sentiments, for he did not dare move for a solid few seconds following the command. With an uncertain step forward, he cast Lexaeus an exceedingly wary glance and opened a portal for them both. The giant ignored him and in a frozen moment, Xaldin was absolutely sure that he would attack. Everything from the tense muscles of his neck to the dead set determination on his face seemed to promise one final battle.

But he seemed to think better of it. He swallowed his pride rather bitterly and turned to enter the alleyways of darkness before him, his movements stiff and carefully kept in check. With a small sigh, Xaldin shook his braided head slowly, utterly frustrated. It made sense and yet it didn't in the slightest.

On some level, truth be told, Xaldin didn't even really want to know.


	2. What You Want To Know

The silence between them stretched. It was not their usual comfortable silence, the one which went on for hours on end while one read endlessly about philosophy or science or history and the other was amused with mind games and puzzles. This was not the silence that only seemed to fill the space while they obviously shared each other's thoughts. This silence was alien and cold. It was entirely unwanted yet incessantly necessary given the circumstance, like the undertaker who has come to cart away the burden of a dead loved one.

The sun had long since set and moon cast a soft shadow on the face of the schemer as he worked wordlessly, his eyes unreadable. The only apparent reflection which his counterpart could ascertain was the fact that his mind was running quickly. He pressed the antiseptic cloth to the goliath's abdominal with an almost bitter intensity, holding it there and glancing up for a reaction. He was greeted with the stoic sight of Lexaeus' calm acceptance.

The schemer looked borderline angry before he muttered, "You're a fool." Lexaeus flinched. Zexion continued to apply the disinfectant to the goliath's jagged looking wound. When he had returned from his mission, he had looked positively grey with exhaustion. His stoic silence had not changed, nor his guarded stance, but he seemed all too ready to retire and avoid the prodigy completely.

Zexion tendencies for control would never allow for something like that, unfortunately enough for the guardian. It left him rather bitter that a seven foot tall warrior of three hundred pounds of pure muscle (albeit exhausted as he was) that he could not simply sneak by. Situations like these were futile with the Schemer around, ruling the shadows with a haughty precision.

"What did you do on your mission?" The young prodigy had not relented since he had forced the larger man to sit down in the library, to allow himself to be 'tended to'. Lexaeus persisted in his silence, which only got a stern glare in response.

"You'll tell me, I know you will." Was that a threat? Gods, did Zexion really think he would cow so easily?

There was a petulant frustration which knitted his brow as he continued slathering on disinfectant with a bitterness and petulance. He pressed hard, hoping to hurt him. Frankly, it was almost a comfort to know that the small academic even cared enough to 'fake' concern.

The silence stretched onward, uncomfortable, cold and entirely unlike their usual understanding agreement that there was simply no need to fill their time with unnecessary noise. This silence was threatening, filled with misunderstandings and untold secrets, and it hid so very much from Zexion's quick and ready mind. Lexaeus' reaction was entirely unreadable aside from the exhaustion which left him looking years older than he actually was.

And that sickening hint of shame…

"And why did the Superior want to speak with you?" The Schemer pried onward, mercilessly. That question he had not been expecting. He perked, a tinge of panic in the clench of his muscles. His attention snapped back to Zexion, wondering how the young man could possibly know about such a thing so soon after his return. "Why else would Saix hurry you off right after getting back?" He really did not miss a thing, did he? Lexaeus' jaw tightened, his own brow knit with worry as he looked away once more, afraid his eyes would betray much that he was unwilling to say.

With a frustrated hiss, Zexion glared venomously up at him, as though he had been denied and betrayed. "Perhaps you are exactly the fool everyone believes you to be. All muscle, no brain. That is what they say, you know. They laugh behind your back. But I do not laugh. I never laugh. I'm on your side." His expression softened and there was something within those crystalline eyes which reminded Lexaeus so strongly of Ienzo, of the boy that Zexion used to be and the love that had filled his young heart, though he would never willingly admit to it.

To the days when he would run about in the garden, collecting caterpillars to store away in his room, absolutely convinced that he could father them into butterflies. The days when his most demanding problems were a scraped knee which could be so easily remedied with the promise of ice cream in the village. When laughter used to be the melody of his childhood after being adopted by the wise Master Ansem.

It reminded Lexaeus of what he was protecting, what was at stake. He swallowed his words and maintained his silence.

"Why won't you tell me?!" Zexion's shriek was jarring, his demand was unnerving. For the first time, Lexaeus found his counterpart's need for knowledge quite upsetting. "You horrendous idiot, you absolute fool! You must be just as stupid as everyone claims! I'm here to defend us and you won't tell me what I have every right to know!" His screams were inches from hysteria. Lexaeus slid from his chair with a speed that, given his current state, should probably not have been possible. He drew his leather robe about himself for propriety's sake, the blood dried on it's surface creaking uncomfortably and showing in the moonlight as the darkest of reds.

"IMBECILE!" Zexion flung his antiseptic cloth down with the petulant rage of a child denied a particularly brightly colored toy. He stared back at the warrior, not with the caring understanding of Ienzo but the calculating rage of the child's heartless reflection. The silence was deafening, and lightheadedness clouded his vision as he longed for rest, for the sweet release from his own thoughts for just a short time.

"What did the superior tell you? I want to know!" Lexaeus had already turned to leave when he heard the voice float back to him. The Silent Hero could swear that the man must be just as tenacious as his father. Gods forbid he should ever be denied of any information whatsoever. Feeling rage bubble up within him, he swallowed the shadow of the emotion before he dared say something he may regret. As though his sacrifices he had already made had not been nearly enough, now he was losing the confidence of the only one he could even begin to trust.

And the one he sought to protect. The truth was heinous, if only he could block it away.

He made his way to the door, his mind swirling uncomfortably from blood loss.

"I'll find out somehow." The threat echoed, cold and driven. "I want to know, and I will find out."


	3. What You Already Know

It was almost as thought the scent of blood and weakness had summoned him from the very cold depths of the shadows within his labs. His own heavy footfalls had been hounded by the crisp echos of his companion's. Sharp green eyes seemed to be softened in the waning moonlight which filtered through the windows of the lower levels of the castle. There was something remarkably reminiscent of Even in the way that he gently laid his hand on Lexaeus' arm, comforting yet not without purpose (how very predictable).

In a beat of a moment, without a word between them, Vexen convinced him to join him in the labs, to be properly healed. It was a rare occurrence that they understood one another on such a level, and rarer still that they heeded the intrinsic notion which grew forth from it. Regardless, the Silent Hero was far too tired, too torn to refuse, despite his misgivings about anything as unnatural as chemical treatment. He supposed there was a time and a place for everything.

Vexen held up the syringe, it's gleamingly bright blue liquid all but glowing in the harsh, fluorescent lighting of the labs, which revealed all and forgave little. The scientist's face was bleached nearly white, his hair rendered to the lightest of muddled cornsilk tones. It was nothing like he was used to seeing him in before, and it made the goliath man wonder, did he look even more monstrous in such a state?

Most likely, he reflected, looking down at his splattered robes, the faint remains of sticky dried blood coating his fingers, tracing the ridges of his nails. In sullen numbness, he wondered why he felt so cold if he hadn't the ability to feel at all.

"You're quite a bit more transparent than you think." Vexen slid the needle into his flesh as easily as one might sip coffee and comment on the weather. Lexaeus glowered at him, both of the men well aware that was not reacting to the pain. No, he was far too trained, too rigid, too stoic and hidden to even acknowledge something quite so ephemeral. Vexen already knew he had hit the truth without even looking up. "It's strange that you should think otherwise. You were a genuine individual when you had a heart, why should this afterlife be so different?" The scientist continued smoothly, with an easy flick of the wrist he withdrew the needle. He seemed to take a moment to assess his counterpart's body, his eyes tracing the well muscled frame not with any trace of lewd instincts, but with a trained, clinical precision. As it were, Lexaeus was only half un-robed, seated on a cold, slate gray lab table, looking more out of sorts than a bull in a china shop. At least he had the good sense to trust in the academic for healing purposes. "Take it off. I can see you're bleeding. You'll have to be disinfected properly."

Lexaeus yanked the rest of the jacket off, trying hard not to feel too cold in the presence of the 'ice master'. He was tense, to say the least, but blood loss had softened his usual glower to a calm gaze. He was still ever so careful. The history between them still haunted him like the vision of poison green eyes, and the flinging of loathsome, hateful words and the rift that had settled between the two as a result. The scars were still there, deeper than he knew, drudging up empty emotions from a hollow core which he was so desperately sure was incapable of reacting in such ways.

"How long ago did you make the deal?" Vexen said evenly, smirking lightly at the quirk of a brow that sufficed as his response from his stoic companion. He went about padding his torso wounds with gauze as though he were doing something so simple as gossiping. "When you promised your loyalty to Xemnas in return for Zexion's safety. It's clear as crystal as to what you're doing." Lexaeus sighed in response, clearly tired, unwilling to admit to how amazed he was at Vexen's power of deduction. As much as it made his empty chest ache, he still admired the man's intelligence.

The Silent Hero paused to answer, just in time to be cut off, "Probably when this entire fruitless endeavor began." Vexen plowed onward his question with a disgruntled mumble. "He knows how powerful you are. Yes, I'm positive he does. It would be absolutely unthinkable that he would not take advantage. And to think, Zexion is such a bright lad, that he would not see it." The gauze was swapped out for a chemical ointment which made Lexaeus cringe in dismay. If there was one thing he distrusted, it was unnatural change. Vexen shook his head knowingly, having obvious been through this countless times before. The goliath man rarely ever changed, and when he did, it was only out of necessity.

"You're honorable. I know you don't believe me when I say it, but it's a trait which cannot be learned. I already know this." Appreciation was painted across his face, looking more genuine than he had in years, and for the first time since their hearts had been torn asunder, Lexaeus could almost believe that the man before him had once been part of Even. There was a reminiscent gentleness to his words, as purposeful as they may have been. "It baffles me, yet I admire that about you." He admitted softly, his hand lingering for just a beat too long on his counterpart's forearm. With a jittery sigh, he continued mending the wounds, which were quickly losing their distracting sting.

Lexaeus seemed about to reluctantly speak once more, but in a shadow of a second, Vexen launched back into action. "You know, I'm working very hard. I feel that I may be close to obtaining the knowledge that we need; the knowledge to gain back our hearts, whether it be with that cursed moon or not. I still want to save us." An uncharacteristic note of hopefulness crept into his voice. "You do believe me, don't you?" He supposed the scientist would never realize how innocent he sounded in that beautifully frozen moment between them. Lexaeus nodded, a subtle gesture, as though the past few years had not occurred, as they they were still sitting back in Ansem's castle, enjoying one another's company over a glass of wine and the promise of fulfilling conversation and an eager mind.

As though the darkness had not consumed them whole.

With a small, accepting sigh, Vexen resigned himself to finishing off his healing process with a few bandages around the afflicted area. "Thank you." Lexaeus murmured his first words since entering, and for all the freezing cold about the both of them, the sentiment felt rather warm. He slid from his seat and gathered his robe about his large frame, trying not to notice the dried blood which was chipping and crinkling from it's smooth, leather surface. It seemed he couldn't escape the present for as long as he had hoped.

"You're not entirely correct." The Hero finally revealed, his mind swirling uncomfortably at the lack of rest, and the sustained wounds, but he still seemed remarkably stable for one in his condition. Vexen looked baffled, shooting the man a questioning glance. "Zexion is not the only one I fight to protect." Lexaeus elaborated softly. With a knowing smile he turned for the door.


End file.
